Aearlin
by Gwaeren
Summary: Erestor ponders over a strange phenomenon occurring in the Misty Mountains. Warnings: Fluffy, M/M relationship. Rating to reflect this relationship. Read and Review! One-shot.


Disclaimer: I own nothing except Aearlin himself, and the plot bunnies. Please, don't let the plot bunnies starve! Feed them review-carrots!

Okay, so technically, this doesn't have much of a plot. I meant it solely to introduce my original character, Aearlin. Since I have some experience writing Erestor, I figured I'd use him as the catalyst to get Aearlin to open up. I honestly had no intention of this going down a fluffy, romantic road, but it did. Proof that these elves in my head have minds of their own. Go figure. I can't control them. *frustrated huff inserted here*

I also recognize that Aearlin is a bit Gary-stu-ish. I promise this is not the case - but it is unfortunate that in this particular fic, his flaws are not shown. It is also difficult when working with elves in general, for they are (more often than not) far better than men when it comes to grace, strength, and wisdom. If I write him again, I will attempt to show the faults I have given him. In this particular case, I beg you to ignore it and simply enjoy the short drabble for what it is - an introduction to Aearlin, and Erestor all flustered, which doesn't happen all that often.

* * *

Any being residing within the sanctuary of Imladris would tell you - Erestor did not get frustrated easily.

He had cleaned up after elflings, fought in fierce battles, dealt with stubborn dignitaries, and put up with the incessant complaints of Glorfindel in regards to Thranduil's rule over the Greenwood, which the blond Balrog slayer claimed was greatly misguided, however fond they all were over the son of Oropher. He had written a good number of the scrolls and volumes that now lined the Library which Elrond often ventured in, and was considered to be both quick with sword and tongue.

But this current situation was driving him absolutely batty. Since beginning his current employ as adviser to Elrond Half-Elven (admittedly many centuries ago), Erestor had oft heard of a certain phenomenon occurring within the Misty Mountains that puzzled him. Rumors of an elven ghost would randomly invade Imladris, which of course was absolutely absurd. Elves did not remain in this world as ghosts when they died. They passed to the Halls of Mandos, and then when ready, were either reborn here, or in the Undying Lands, west across the sea.

Which meant that this 'ghost' was either half-elven and had chosen his human heritage, then died a horrible death so as to remain fixed on this earth, or ... he was alive. A feral elf, so to speak.

It wasn't beyond the realm of possibility, at least. In fact, of all of the unlikely scenarios that ran through his head to explain the situation, this one was the most probable. And the most frustrating for him.

He wanted to SEE this elf for himself.

He wanted to meet him, interrogate him and learn who he was. Where he was from.

He'd even gone so far as to badger Elrond on a handful of occasions, who had only said - and quite cryptically at that - that the Ghost wished his privacy, and that Imladris owed him at least enough to respect that, if not far more.

The adviser had huffed when he heard that, earning an amused chuckle out of his Lord. Elrond KNEW something, and he wasn't allowing Erestor the slightest hint as to what it was. It was evil of Elrond to do that to him! Pure evil!

He sighed, pushing up from the desk he was currently sitting in front of. The thick, burgundy-velvet robes he was accustomed to wearing fell easily around him, swathing him in a comforting cocoon of soft fabric. A slender hand sifted through his knot-worked hair, smoothing out the mithril threads woven through it as decoration. It was getting late, and he was thinking far too much about this. He needed to rest.

He picked his way through the Library where he'd been sitting, and headed toward Elrond's suite to let his Lord know he would be resting for a time. It was only proper, lest Elrond need him and waste precious moments using Vilya to find him.

He traveled silently down the hall, as most elves moved, the only sound being the faint, occasional rustle of the heavy velvet. Until, that was, he reached Elrond's suite. The door was slightly ajar, and he could hear voices - both male - coming from within.

"I trust that you've fared well this winter, Aearlin?" came Elrond's calm, deeper tone.

"Yes... thank you," the reply came, the voice slightly lighter than Elrond's and giving Erestor the impression of verbal honey. It was a voice that conveyed many millennia – like Elrond's own voice – yet had a youthful edge to it, as though those years had meant little to the elf in question.

Elrond had a visitor that Erestor didn't know about. THAT was peculiar.

He stepped forward and lightly rapped his knuckles on the door. "Lord Elrond? You did not inform me you had a visitor today... I could have come to greet them with you," he called lightly, almost teasing.

From inside, he could almost -feel- the tension. What he'd said had caused a bit more stress than he'd intended, and he frowned. What was going on?

"Erestor. Come in, friend," Elrond called, his voice more serious than his words might indicate. Who -was- the Elven Lord's visitor?

Hair the color of the sun and tarnished with trace amounts of dirt to dull the glistening effect it might have had could be seen over the back of the chair that faced the wall opposite the door Erestor entered through. And when that stranger stood, it was obvious he was born of grace. He rose with motions smooth as cream, his stance regal despite tattered and dirty attire.

"Lord Erestor, may I present Aearlin of the Misty Mountains. Aearlin, this is my most trusted adviser, Erestor." The blond inclined his head in a sign of respect, much like a high-king might, his face pale and stoic.

"A pleasure to meet you, Erestor. Lord Elrond has told me quite a bit about you," came that sweetened voice, warming when the dark-haired Adviser bowed his own head in response.

"Likewise, Aearlin. I admit I have a great interest in you. An interest I'm certain my Lord Elrond knows all too well."

Aearlin flushed at this, glancing sharply toward the Elven ruler. Elrond merely smiled. "It is true. Erestor has had a fascination with you for quite some time. He has been determined to work out the mystery you have surrounding yourself. And while I promise that I have made every precaution to keep your existence a secret, Aearlin, I cannot say I am not glad that Erestor has found you out."

Both elves standing before Elrond found their cheeks turning pink this time, and the half-elf seemed quite pleased at this. "I will leave you to talk, then. I am certain that Erestor has a good number of questions for you, Aearlin, and I am equally certain that there are many favors you could wrest from my Adviser for answering them."

A minute later and Aearlin faced Erestor, looking distinctly nervous. Despite not moving in the slightest, he could simply tell - Aearlin had not wanted any other than Elrond to know of his existence. Nor did he want to answer any of Erestor's questions.

The adviser was quiet for a few minutes, just watching the other elf. This Aearlin was dressed in clothes that Erestor recognized as originating in Imladris. His weapons were the same. There was a bow and quiver resting against the desk that Elrond often sat at, looking at least a century old at this point, the leather re-worked here and there - likely from wear. And then there were the knives strapped to the leather belt at his side, one at each hip. Though Erestor could not see the blades, the hilts were simple in their craft - made only for service, and not to be seen often otherwise.

Aearlin's tunic was well-made, serviceable, but simple and quite worn. It was at least a few decades old from the looks of it, and made of the soft-woven fabric often found in their realm. It had probably been a brilliant hunter green before weather and wear finally took its toll - now it was a dusky forest hue, smudged with brown or black every so often. His leggings were similar, though were still their original dark brown. They looked a little newer than the tunic, though, and seemed to be well-cared-for.

The leather of this elf's boots was worked hard, stained with mud, and traces of blood – this elf had seen a considerable amount of fighting before coming here, and Erestor was fairly certain he would see more.

But it was the elf's stature and facial features that held the long-standing advisor silent for as long as he'd been.

Aearlin's hair was the color of old gold, and likely would have shone like it too, had it been cleaned properly. It fell in a long cascade to the small of his back, pulled away from his face by a simple half-pony-tail. No braids. His eyes reminded Erestor of the color of the ocean further south of Imladris, where the water turned a brilliant turquoise hue that nearly sang in his heart. Nearly. But this color *did* sing to Erestor, and he felt somewhat captivated by the intensity found within those eyes. He was obviously somewhat tall and lean, but that was not uncommon among their kind – he reminded Erestor of Glorfindel, who was deceptive in his strength.

But it was the face. That face… Erestor recognized it immediately.

Fingolfin.

He had not been born in time to ever have met the High King, but he had seen art depicting the former regal elf – and his princely sons. And this elf had so many features that were the spitting image of the elf.

It could not be coincidence.

"I had thought that all of Fingolfin's sons had died long ago," Erestor finally commented softly, making those aqua eyes widen in both shock and fear of being found out so easily. He reminded Erestor now of a spooked deer, and immediately tempered his words to ease the poor elf's mind.

"Peace, Aearlin. I have kept Elrond's secrets for centuries. I will keep yours, as well. I have no doubt you have your reasons for not stepping forward, and I assure you that it is somewhat of a relief. It would cause turmoil for decades were you to step forward now." He paused, thoughtful, then smiled. "That does not change the fact, however, that you –are- our High-King, whether the rest of elvendom knows this or not. You are the most direct line to Fingolfin, Feanor… Finarfin. Our kings."

The blond elf flushed at the title, then shook his head. "I do not deserve such titles, Councilor Erestor, whatever my blood by birth may be. But please, Elrond mentioned you have questions for me, and as it seems I will not be able to leave until you are satisfied, I would answer them swiftly and as thoroughly as you wish."

Erestor smiled. A born diplomat. "Let us retreat to my quarters, then. I have a spare room you may sleep in, if you wish to rest, and I can have food and drink brought to us there," he insisted, watching the hesitation flash in his companion's eyes. Hesitation that slowly melted into acceptance.

The blond rose gracefully as any of their kind might, and gathered his bow and quiver. "Very well," he replied quietly, moving to stand before Erestor once he had gathered his things. "Lead the way, Councilor." Erestor nodded, and guided them out of Elrond's study, down the hallway that led to his own rooms.

"I feel I can safely assume that you are the one who has saved countless travelers that crossed the Misty Mountains previously, and ran into trouble along their way? Men and elves both speak of an elven phantom that appeared out of what seemed to be no-where, slaying whatever menace that threatened them, or leaving them food and drink if they had run out," he queried as they walked, and yet again he noted that Aearlin had blushed.

"I am," the blond replied just as quietly as always. Erestor nodded, smiling slightly.

"Then you have my thanks. Of those you left food for, Elrond's own sons are included."

Here he was surprised when Aearlin laughed gently. "They were the youngest elves I had seen attempt the crossing alone. I watched them carefully their entire trip. It would not do for them not to reach their friend in Mirkwood," he responded as Erestor pushed open the door to his own suite.

"Yes, and Glorfindel protested their going alone. Elrond allowed it, if only to teach them a lesson – the mountains are more dangerous than they had given them credit for, and your gift to them taught them and humbled them. The loss of the twins would have been a sore blow for Imladris, indeed." He held the door for Aearlin, then after asking a passing elf to give word to the kitchens to prepare them a light meal, closed the door and sat in one of the comfortable chairs set in the main greeting room, gesturing for Aearlin to join him in the seat across from him.

"Would you be willing to tell me how you came here?" Erestor finally asked once they were settled. Aearlin grinned here, taking Elrond's suggestion.

"That depends on what I might get in return. While I need nothing at the moment, a favor owed is a wonderful thing." Erestor smiled, glad that this elf showed a sharp intellect and willingness to bargain over information.

"Well then, a favor owed it shall be, so long as what is requested of me is within reason, and within my capabilities to fulfill."

Aearlin considered for a moment, the nodded. "That's acceptable. I would not ask anything that was not within reason – I have few needs as it is." He paused, looking at Erestor curiously before beginning his tale.

"The scrolls do not mention me because when I was born, there was great turbulence between the elves. Ada kept my birth quiet to keep me safe. I was not even in my majority when everything fell apart, however – along Feanor's March. I was fifty, and wished to join my brothers in training for battle – perhaps not to wield a blade against my own kind, but to be ready and there with them if need be. I did not want to be apart from my brothers, or my father. Ada and I had a vicious fight the night before the attempt at Helcaraxe. I was young and entirely too headstrong. He was wise and was attempting to understand my ire… but I was having none of it. I stalked out of the camp to cool down, and went to one of the boats that were to be used the next day, figuring that some time spent on the water, even if I was not sailing, would calm me."

A knock sounded at the door, interrupting Aearlin's tale for the time being. Erestor sent him an apologetic smile, then rose to answer the rapping. A tray of food and drink was passed over, the door was shut again, and he carried their refreshments to a small table he nudged between their chairs with his foot.

Once wine was poured and bread was broken, Aearlin continued his story.

"It was not Ada who found me. Nor was it Ada's people who used those boats the next day. It was Feanor and his sons. It was too late to return me to Ada… there was too bitter blood, and Feanor was quite mistrustful of Fingolfin at the time. Feanor died shortly after we arrived – in that first battle with Morgoth. I wanted to return to my family at that point, but … by the time I could find them, my father was lost. Soon after, I lost my two brothers and my sister, none of which I knew as well as I might like to have."

Aearlin sipped at his wine during this, and sometimes reached for a nibble of fruit or cheese, but when he finished speaking, he set his wine down and watched Erestor this time. The Councilor had gone very quiet, and seemed to be deep in thought after his tale.

Finally, a small but warm smile tugged at his lips, and he shook his head. "It is almost unbelievable. Almost. No one has ever suspected that Fingolfin had another son, let alone that such a son had survived till now," he uttered.

"I have been wondering who or what you were since first coming here as an elfling. When the elves first declared war on Sauron, Eregion - where I lived - was destroyed. Elrond took me in when he first created Imladris … I was but an elfling then, and already had heard whispers of an elf aiding those who needed it, appearing for but a few moments then disappearing as though he were never there. I knew that I needed to learn the truth of you…"

Aearlin chuckled here. "And so you have. I can see why Elrond chose you to be one of his most trusted advisers. It is too easy to talk with you." The blond paused, then tipped his head slightly to the side. "I remember Eregion… Like Gondolin before it, I wept to hear it destroyed. Yet, it seems the Valar have plans for us all, for had that not happened, you would likely not have been found by Elrond, and in turn, would not have come here." Aearlin shook his head, then sighed softly, picking his wine back up and sipping at the rosy liquid.

"And you likely would not have been Elrond's advisor as you are now. Nor, I'd wager, would we have met."

Erestor considered this. It was true – none of this would have happened, and Erestor might never have even heard about Aearlin, let alone met him. He nodded, sipping at his own wine. "You are likely right," he responded after a moment, smiling at the other. It was hard –not– to smile around Aearlin. Despite the blond rarely having contact or conversation with others, he was exceptional at it.

"Would you mind terribly if I asked you a personal question?" the Councilor inquired a moment later, hoping that he wouldn't offend his guest.

To his relief, the wild elf shook his head, picking up a small roll and tearing a piece off to eat. "Not at all. I can't guarantee I'll answer, though."

Erestor chuckled. "Fair enough. I was wondering – Why do you not join us in Imladris, or if not here, then perhaps Lothlórien or Greenwood?"

Aearlin paused, swallowing his bread before replying. "I do not feel the need or desire to live among my kind as I once did. If I ever do again, perhaps I may live here. Lord Elrond has extended the invitation many a time, and I think he wishes I would. It is peaceful, I admit, and has a great appeal. However, it seems wherever I settle, it is doomed within a few years time. All I know is that I have witnessed many turbulent times, and am uncertain if I should dare settle anywhere."

Erestor tutted softly, but nodded his acceptance of the explanation. "It must be difficult, living as long as you have, and not settling down somewhere. Do you not miss contact with others? Love?"

This time, the other elf simply shrugged. "There is nothing to miss. I have not felt the love of anyone since I was very young. And I have contact. I come here and talk with Lord Elrond from time to time. He often makes sure my clothes are not about to come undone, and will order the upkeep on my weapons when necessary. He … he is a good elf," the blond finished to Erestor's agreeing nod.

"He is one of the greatest elves I have met or read about. As great as Gil-Galad… or any of the elves within our history," the adviser admitted, re-pouring some wine into their glasses. It was relaxing him, and it seemed as though it was relaxing Aearlin as well. All the better. "Yet he does not realize just how great he is. Perhaps this is a good thing, for if he had an ego to match his power and intelligence, he would be incredibly arrogant, rather than simply self-assured as he is now." He chuckled softly – he could not see Elrond as ever being arrogant. Aearlin laughed as well, for Elrond was confident enough – there was no need to inflate his ego.

After a few moments of companionable silence, Erestor finally gave a good look to Aearlin's appearance before making a gentle offer. "Would you like a bath? And perhaps have your hair braided? We can have your clothes washed overnight, and you can borrow one of my dressing robes for the night. At the very least it would mean you would enter the Mountains tomorrow clean and refreshed." He did not intend for any insult, and it seemed his guest picked up on such things, for it was only a moment later that the son of Fingolfin nodded slowly.

"I think I would like that," he admitted. In truth, it was the only part of living in the mountains that he disliked. Few elves enjoyed dirt on their skin or in their hair, and Aearlin was no exception to that rule. Erestor smiled rather indulgently at him, and he could feel the faintest of blushes creep across his cheeks. How was it that this stranger of an elf could do that?

"Excellent. Let me gather some robes for us, and we'll head to the baths," he insisted, walking through a archway into his bedroom, where his wardrobe stood. He pushed aside a few items, then finally pulled out a dark blue set of bed-robes of what looked like a soft silk. This he passed to Aearlin, while digging out a set of dark silver for himself. "Come… the baths await."

* * *

The walk to the baths was quiet, both elves seeming to find the other's presence plenty to keep them content. Aearlin often caught the adviser stealing glances at him, but it didn't bother him. Rather, he was flattered by the attention. When it was simply one elf focusing on him, he found he didn't mind the presence or inquisitiveness. It was only in large crowds, when he felt he was the center of a great deal of attention, that Aearlin began to fret. If he were perfectly honest with himself, he rather enjoyed the sidelong glances the adviser was giving him.

As for Erestor? He was fascinated. This elf was, without a doubt, the most interesting he'd run across in a long, long while. He'd had so many questions, too! Yet, when faced with the blond elf, he found himself unable to ask many of those curiosities. Strange how he never let a feeling that he was intruding stop him from asking questions before. Yet now, his tongue was stilled in Aearlin's presence, and he found himself asking the few inquiries he had with focused grace and humility.

When they arrived at the baths, Erestor hung their clean robes along a wall a little distance from the warm pools of water, then returned and began to divest. Even –he- was looking forward to a soak, after spending so long in a hunched-over position in the library, pouring over one tome or another.

After disrobing, he took a moment to look at his skin. His skin was pale enough, and the darkness of his hair, much like Elrond's own, made his flesh appear far more washed out than it really was. He peered at his nails, made a face at the small charcoal smudges along his fingertips, then stepped into the warm, swirling water within one of the public tubs. Then, with an appreciative groan, he sank into the water, dark hair fanning around him like a cloud. "Elbereth, this feels good," he breathed, causing Aearlin to chuckle as he joined the adviser.

"Indeed it does…" he confessed, finding a seat near where the other rested. "I take it that you do not often have time to relax like this?" the blond continued, watching Elrond's high councilor with curiosity bright in his aqua eyes.

"Nay, I am too oft found bent over a map or scroll or tome, trying to decipher something or other. Or I will be sent as an ambassador to other realms, where I am treated well, but have no time to myself." He made a face, then laughed. "Though much of my lack-of-time is solely my own fault, for I grow enrapt in one thing or another, and forget myself."

Aearlin nodded at that, then lifted a hand to rest on the advisor's shoulder. "Then let me ease some of your tension," he insisted, pulling lightly to turn the younger elf. Erestor resisted for a moment, hesitant that this was at all a good idea, then surrendered with a strangled moan as Aearlin's fingers began to work upon his tired shoulders regardless of his turning or not. Another soft laugh was gifted to him, and he slumped into the sure and stead touch like melting butter. "See, you _are_ in need of some relief," the blond teased, and Erestor found himself laughing along with him.

"You are very correct," he admitted softly, humming in pleasure as the other worked some of the worst kinks out of his back and neck. "Are you certain you could not stay. I would welcome you here just for this…" he admitted, stiffening slightly at a particularly sore spot before relaxing again.

Again, Aearlin laughed, fingers working magic along the councilor's back. "And what, pray-tell, would you use to entice me to stay?" he asked curiously, letting his hands press lightly into the stiff shoulder-blades of his host.

The dark-haired elf shook his head slightly… almost imperceptive. "I do not know, but I would find some temptation for you." He lifted a hand, making a swirling gesture through the air. "But I am certain with Elrond's help, I could find something that might hold your interest…"

Aearlin flushed slightly, and was glad that Erestor had his back to him. That someone wanted him to stay that dearly touched him…. And worried him. Attachment was a high risk when concerning someone like himself. Despite his long years, he still faced death far more often than the average elf. Still, he continued to work on Erestor's back, smiling when he noticed the other elf beginning to droop in his arms. A gentle squeeze was given to the advisor's shoulder at that, and he leaned close to his ear. "Erestor, I would not advise falling asleep in water. You might drown."

The councilor shivered slightly at the warm breath, but laughed at Aearlin's words. "I shall try to remain aware, then," he replied smoothly, straightening a little – but pride filled the blond's being as he realized the other hadn't *completely* returned to his former stiff posture. In fact, those shoulders were softer under his touch, and his muscles – tone as they were – gave him little resistance from that point onward.

Only a few minutes later, Aearlin found his companion had again sagged, and he chuckled lightly. "I fear if I continue, you will fall into slumber and I shall have to navigate the confusing hallways of this house alone," he teased, causing the dark-haired adviser to flush once more, straightening again and twisting a bit to face his guest.

"I apologize," he uttered after a moment of embarrassed silence. "I fear it has been a rather long time since any have treated me to such attention," the confession came, and the feral elf smiled in reply.

"There is no apology necessary, Erestor. I only fear that I may have drawn you too far into relaxation, and that you may slip under the surface when I am not paying attention." The blond paused, then reached behind him for one of the corked bottles of cleanser. He gently removed the stopper, sniffing the mixture appreciatively before pouring a little of the liquid into his hands. He then raked the limbs through his hair, working the cleaning fluid through the strands before plunging himself beneath the water to rinse it all out.

Amused and feeling better than he had in a long while, Erestor first unbraided his own hair, then followed suit, washing and rinsing his own dark locks. The process was repeated on their skin, then feeling clean and at ease, they removed themselves from the bath, toweled themselves off, and dressed in the bed-robes that Erestor had provided for them, toweling their hair until it was barely damp.

Slippers were slid on their feet before the Councilor led the way back to his suite. All the while, they remained quiet, a companionable feeling settled between them. More than that, Erestor realized as he opened the door to his rooms.

Once inside, Erestor led Aearlin to a dresser with a mirror, a silver and white chair sitting before it. He gestured for the blond to seat himself, then began the task of detangling the gold hair and carefully pulling it into a net of tiny braids, a few mithril beads woven into the design. He secured the ends with small mithril threads like he had used in his own hair earlier, tying them delicately so that the gold hair would not come undone. Once finished, he picked up a small hand-mirror and let Aearlin turn around so he might view the designs created. A bright smile warmed the ancient elf's face, and he insisted a moment later that he be allowed to return the favor.

"It has been thousands of years since I've had the chance to do this, friend. I used to braid my siblings' hair often, and admit that I have missed doing so," he explained.

Friend.

Aearlin had called him 'friend', and Erestor's heart gave a sharp thud in his chest at the word. Had he truly won the elf's trust this quickly?

Dark brown eyes closed as he felt the other elf's hands working through the inky strands, and he hummed his happiness while Aearlin worked. He couldn't think very easily on the new revelation given to him – the pleasant touch in his hair quickly sidetracked any other thought.

It was over too quickly.

What felt like only seconds later – and what likely had been a good ten minutes in actual time – Aearlin gently nudged the Adviser, laughing merrily at the ease of which he was able to subdue the other. "Your hair is done, dear Councilor," he insisted, amused.

Erestor turned so his back was to the full mirror, then plucked the hand-mirror up to view the back. His hair had been woven into a wide, seven-strand, raised braid that started close to the very top of his scalp and held fast to the curve of it, with three swirling mithril clips adorning the fall. "You are quite skilled," Erestor claimed gently, impressed with the design.

"Fingon oft would wear his hair like this," Aearlin insisted quietly, a slightly faraway look in his aqua eyes. "He taught me how to pleat it without losing strands of hair, and I would typically be the one to pull his hair up …" Aearlin smiled fondly at the memory, smoothing some strands alongside Erestor's ear, his expression turning curious when he felt the councilor's head tip ever-so-slightly into the touch.

Was….? Was Erestor becoming attached to him? Attracted to him?

He was curious about this slight slip-up in Erestor's typically polished decorum, noting that the relaxing bath and massage might have done something to help the dark-haired adviser lower his defenses a bit. It would be interesting to see exactly to what extent the councilor's affection went… but dangerous, as well.

Aearlin couldn't afford attachment… could he?

"I'm honored, then," the councilor finally spoke concerning the pleat and its origins, and Aearlin found himself flushing slightly. Honored? He shook his head, smiled, then held out his hand for Erestor to rise.

"Let's get some sleep, councilor. You were half-way there in the baths, and I think you'll appreciate a bed supporting you, rather than a chair," he finally responded, changing the subject quickly. He noted the faint pink that stained the other elf's cheeks, matching his own, but said nothing.

The darker elf led the way to his bedroom, and Aearlin was incredibly pleased to see that Elrond had given his Councilor a rather nice, large bed – there would be no cramped quarters here. No accidental nudging off the bed. He wasn't –used– to beds, and while it had only happened once on a very narrow bed, tumbling out of them was a startling experience. He sat himself down slowly, sinking into the woven mattress, relaxing as he felt Erestor's hand on his shoulder, pulling him backward.

"Rest, friend. You need it just as much as I." The truth wore at Aearlin's fretting, and he felt himself drift off into the open-eyed slumber of elves, the warmth emitted by the body beside him comforting as he slept.

* * *

The next morning, Erestor woke to find himself quite close to the blond sleeping alongside him – in fact, their sides were touching, warm and soothing in every spot they connected. It was a nice feeling, Erestor concluded. Nice enough that he regretted having to rise.

Long limbs stretched before he sat himself up, and his motions seemed to easily rouse the blond beside him, clarity returning to those sea-like irises. "Good morning," he greeted his host, sitting himself up and resting against the plush pillows that lined the headboard of Erestor's bed. "Did you sleep well?"

Elrond's adviser laughed softly. "I should be the one to ask you that. But yes, it was the best sleep I've had in quite a while, actually. What about you?" He tipped his head slightly to the side.

"Likewise," Aearlin replied lightly, reaching a hand out to smooth a couple of wayward strands of inky-black hair that had escaped the tight braid he'd woven for Erestor. Once satisfied that all was in place again, he removed the hand and glanced outside. "I should leave soon… before too many wake and I cannot do so without drawing attention," he finally said, though there was a hint of regret in his voice.

Erestor startled slightly to hear it. Had he truly made such a friend of Aearlin that the other elf had second-thoughts of leaving Imladris? He bit his lower lip a little, not wanting to be so forward as to ask Aearlin not to leave. It wasn't his place. Besides, they were friends – and even friends didn't ask such things of each other, unless there was dire reason.

He smiled instead, and nodded. "Let me give you a new set of clothes, at least. And breakfast, before you leave. It is still rather early, and few will be about just yet."

The blond considered the offer, then nodded. "I'd like that."

Encouraged, Erestor rose from his bed, sweeping over to his wardrobe to rummage through the drawers. Much as he enjoyed his books and scrolls, he was still a warrior, and as such, he had a good number of tunics, leggings and the like that would service Aearlin well. He finally found a set of grey leggings and a long-sleeved shirt to match, as well as a lighter grey tunic. "To help you blend with the greys of the mountains," he explained as he handed the items over to the blond elf.

"They will do nicely, thank you," was the gentle reply as Erestor's guest began to change. The adviser took that time to pick out his own clothes – far less of an out-of-doors choice. His own was a set of deep blue velvet robes over a tunic and leggings of lighter blue silk. Elrond had always voiced appreciation of the set, and …

Was he trying to impress Aearlin?

He slipped the leggings and tunic on. Yes, he decided. Yes, he was trying to impress Aearlin. The more important question, which he had yet to figure out an answer to, was why?

The robes were drawn over his shoulders and tied properly, swathing him in the comforting shell of velvet that he so often preferred. "Let's get breakfast, then," he insisted, to which Aearlin agreed with a smile and a dip of his head.

Breakfast left Erestor just as confused as before, and now just a little frustrated with his own emotions. He had yet to figure out the 'why' of it all, and he didn't have much time, either – they were walking to the borders of the city of Imladris, and soon he'd be saying farewell to his newest friend. All without answers to his question. They walked in companionable silence, side-by-side until the gates loomed over them.

"I… I will return sooner this time, I think," Aearlin confessed as he turned to face the scholar, reaching a hand out to grasp the dark-haired councilor's. "Now I have a good reason to return."

Erestor looked at the other elf, feeling a bubble of confusion. He hadn't thought he'd meant that much to the other. He hadn't thought he'd had that great an impact. But Aearlin had said that he had a good reason to return… and…..

"Forgive me, Erestor, if I am too forward…" Erestor hadn't but a second to process it all before Aearlin destroyed all power of reason within him. Lips claimed his in a slow, soft kiss that sent all thoughts in his mind scattering across Arda, leaving only one behind. Just one.

THAT was the reason he'd wanted to impress Aearlin.

And impress Aearlin he seemed to have done!

The blond smiled at the dumbfounded-yet-pleased expression on the Councilor's face, brushed his fingertips across his cheek, and turned to head off to the wilds once more. "Navaer, Erestor. I will return before winter. I promise you."

By the time Erestor's reason returned to him, Aearlin was some distance away – too far for the councilor to catch up with easily. And Aearlin had promised he would return, right? Before winter, he had said.

A faint smile touched Erestor's lips at the thought, a hand raising to brush over the lips that Aearlin had kissed.

Winter would be far warmer this year, at least for Erestor.

* * *

(AN – That's all she wrote, folks! I hope you enjoyed. Please read and review!)


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